Another Dead Poet

Bill Scheffel, Naropa poet,

committed suicide July 8.

I knew Bill a little…too tender

for this world…too sweet…

took it all to heart too much.

Was it in protest of a dream he

took to be reality that made him 

take his life? He was depressed,

we know.

Maybe it was because he couldn’t 

write the poem he needed to, so,

he used his life instead.

Burned up in a car, now there’s

an image…

a poet, bursts into flame…

consequently, incidentally,

a coke machine releases a stick

of dynamite.

I can only conclude Bill was telling

us to wake up by blazing his body.
You have a better explanation?

His ashes are the ink we use
to tell the truth.